Working
by KateSkirmish
Summary: Grell contemplates his working relationship with William. Slightly WillxGrell. Not yaoi. One shot.


A/N: I wrote this on a complete whim today. It's so rare that I feel like writing, and as you can tell towards the end of this very short piece, I'm really not much of a marathon writer! There are some very minor allusions to my other fic about Will and Grell, "A First Love", so I hope my readers will enjoy that. For now this is a one shot, but maybe if I'm feeling it, I'll add more some day. Sorry for the crapiness of the dialog at the end, and even more apologies to fans of my ongoing fic "His for a Day" for not updating that instead. XD But many thanks go out to the reviewers and readers of my previous stories! Anyway, here comes some light fluff, so enjoy! ~Kate

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Even on the busiest days Grell found time to just sit and quietly look at the most capable chief dispatch manager that London had seen in the last 300 years, and today was no different. A smattering of paperwork, some left over from the day before, lay on Grell's desk in a messy heap. The night's reaping had long since been completed and he had no taste for the paper-pushing that consumed the last few hours of the work day. He slumped over on his desk, blank forms and regulation sheets spreading askew from the weight of his elbows as he propped his head up with both hands. Passing co-workers probably would've had to hold back laughter upon seeing the way Grell's face was comically smushed up against his hands as he wistfully looked towards the office at the end of the room in his boredom. They _would've_, but this was a sight that was available daily. As such, the other reapers had grown quite accustomed to it and were bustling by with paperwork of their own in hand as if he weren't even there.

The field work office for London's death gods was rather large. It took up an entire floor of a corporate building and consisted primarily of an expansive room filled with cubicles and a single, lone desk. Grell had once had a cubicle of his own, but due to his tendency to "improvise" while collecting souls, he had earned himself a small punishment and had his cubicle privileges revoked. When he was first assigned his new work area, the desk was pushed up against the one wall of the office that lacked windows. Even though it was next to the main entrance to the room and ended up as a convenient dumping ground for abandoned coffee cups and other assortments of refuse, Grell didn't really mind. The first thing he did was turn the heavy wooden desk around so that he could at least see what was going on around him as he put off filling out the various forms that everyone made such a stink about, and what he found made the whole punishment well worth it in the end.

From where he sat he could now see straight through to the other side of the spacious room where a small private office marked "Chief Dispatch Manager" was located. At first it had seemed as if some higher power had parted the great sea of cubicles to make a clear path between the private office and his own lowly desk, but later it occurred to Grell that it was more likely a way to keep him in constant view and out of trouble. Either way, it didn't much matter to him. The only thing he was really interested in at this point was if the solid wooden door to the office was open or closed, and today, much to his delight, the door was open.

William T. Spears really was the most capable dispatch manager the department had seen in quite some time. His efficient work as a field agent did not go unnoticed, and he broke records when he surprassed his peers and became the youngest death god to be promoted to his current position. He was never flustered under pressure and he commanded his ranks with the flawless demeanor of a seasoned veteran. Everything about the man was cool and professional, and it was that impeccable air about him that captivated Grell.

So there Grell sat with total disregard for the papers below his elbows, admiring William from afar. Today he was wearing an entirely black suit with a solid black tie. Sometimes he wore grey or dark brown, but Grell always thought he looked best in black. William's suits were always so cleanly pressed and it was almost a wonder that they didn't wrinkle despite the long hours sitting in a chair. It was then that William stood up, phone in hand, as if he had read Grell's thoughts and was attempting to prevent the edges of his suit jacket from folding and pleating underneath him. He turned to face the large wall of windows so that his back was to the main office. This was something Grell enjoyed because the light from the windows illuminated William's stark silhouette, complementing the sharp lines and tailoring of his suit. And goodness did suits look smashing on him. If anyone was born to wear a suit, it was William T. Spears. Grell giggled a bit as he imagined a little baby William in a tiny infant-sized suit. How adorable that would've been! But William was no child now, regardless of what he wore in his earliest years. Though he had a thin, slender frame, he was tall, and his shoulders and back looked strong and sturdy. There was no mistaking that this was a man.

Actually, Grell had known William for a long time, even before either of them had come to work in the London office. It wasn't common knowledge among their co-workers, but the two had met in the death god training academy just by chance. Grell knew that he had considered him a nuisance from the start, but he pretended not to notice as he continued to befriend the quiet, friendless death god trainee who was known for taking notes on every little thing and pushing up his glasses with whatever was in his hand. It was William who had joined the London team first, and Grell was overjoyed when he got the notice of transfer that would make that his permanent post as well. He never asked nor brought it up, but Grell was fairly sure the transfer was under William's direct orders. The thought made his stomach flutter just a tiny bit as he wondered what other secrets William might be keeping.

Still on the phone, William had turned so that Grell could now see some of his face. His eyes were the same piercing yellow that Grell remembered from their younger days. They were eyes that could penetrate through your defenses and see directly to your soul. They were sharp and demanding, yet deep and secretive. Even now that icy stare could send shivers down Grell's spine- a feeling he enjoyed immensely. And of course William wasn't smiling. He never smiled. But somehow that just made Grell admire him all the more. He was always so stoic and serious that it just wouldn't be fitting to see the man laugh aloud or joke around with others. Sure Grell spent plenty of time chiding him about his no-nonsense demeanor, but in truth he really didn't want William to change one bit.

Grell shifted so that his chin could rest against the palm of his right hand and let the other lay uselessly on top of the bed of papers. He looked over to the large wall mounted clock with the swinging brass pendulum that hung to his right. One more hour until the end of the work day. In a way he was a little disappointed. Once the day ended there was no reason to stick around the office where he knew William would be putting in another hour or two of overtime. Maybe today he could think of an excuse to stay late just so he could watch him a little longer.

Watching the clock's pendulum swing back and forth as the seconds ticked by, Grell was far too lost in thought to notice the subject of these very thoughts approaching.

"Grell Sutcliff." William's voice snapped Grell out of his daydreaming and brought his full attention forward. He looked up from his desk, half breaking from his slumped over position in his surprise, to meet those sharp, probing eyes he was so familiar with.

"Oh Will! I didn't see you there! Have you come to ask me out to dinner?" Grell grinned his best careless, playful grin and hoped that William hadn't noticed him staring at him for the last hour or so. "I know the loveliest place where we can dine by candle light!"

Grell was not surprised to see that William was less than pleased. "As I've told you many times, my name is William, not Will. And no, dinner with you is the furthest from my mind." William looked down at the papers Grell had been ignoring for the last few days and scowled slightly. "I see you have done a fine job of procrastinating with your forms and thus creating more overtime work for me this afternoon."

"No, Will! That's not what I-" Grell began to protest. He hadn't even thought that maybe William was working overtime to cover for his own negligence.

"Gather your things, Grell Sutcliff, and meet me in my office." William interrupted. "Since you seem to be so hellbent on forcing others to make up for your oversights, my only option is to make sure you finish your work myself. I'll be keeping an eye on you after hours until you have completed every last form. Is that clear?"

"Yes, William." Grell said sheepishly. He smiled a bit to show that he meant no harm, but William's cold glare dug into his heart.

Once William turned to go back to his office, Grell's small, timid smile widened into one more mischievous and knowing. He knew that last glare, seemingly full of resentment, was really just William studying him to see if he had any suspicions of the orders to work along side him in his office. Grell played along as he often did, and though neither would speak of it, they both knew this was hardly punishment. Grell contemplated this and decided to put off his paperwork tomorrow as well.


End file.
